After this message {hellip}

I am a sports fan, which is sort of like being a heroin addict except less expensive. I watch all sorts of stuff; I read all sorts of stuff; I have lots of opinions about "SportsCenter," the ESPN show that features highlights of all the contests and interviews that I might have missed while having some semblance of a life.

"SportsCenter" takes product placement to a whole new level. Every feature is presented by someone (the Viagra Score of the Day and so forth - I made that up, but it's not far wrong), so not only do we have the ads, but we also have the ads between the ads. But that's OK, because somewhere in there are the scores and highlights we crave, so we stick with it through every Roto-Rooter Dunk of the Day.

(It occurs to me that heroin dealers could probably get some extra bucks doing product placement too. "Your illicit substance today is encased in a Glad brand zip-lock bag, the No. 1 name in narcotics storage devices. Here's a short film I'd like you to watch." And of course, all the junkies would watch because they want their fix. That's the "SportsCenter" business model right there.)

Of course, big-time sports and hypocrisy go hand in hand, and if that bothers you, you're better off with knitting. But last week, the HP HD Shot of the Week was "the only possible candidate," said Chris Berman, a sportscaster whose sell-by date is at least a decade in the past: President Bush throwing out the first ball of the baseball season. Unmentioned and unheard - just music on the soundtrack - was the generous helping of boos that accompanied our beloved chief executive. That kind of censorship is silly revision, and why sports should be such a hotbed of right-wing sentiment - love those flyovers - is beyond me. And why I put up with it is also beyond me. (You can judge the reaction to Bush reaction for yourself at tinyurl.com/4serqt.)

Speaking of music, the Masters golf tournament is this week, and it can never be mentioned, on ESPN or anywhere else, without its syrupy pseudo-classical theme music. The Masters is like some kind of cult religion, spoken of in the hushed tones generally reserved for the funerals of heads of state. The Masters is played on the Augusta National course, the directors of which resisted integration for just ever. I think the Al Green version of "A Change Is Gonna Come" might be more appropriate.

There are other parts of sports coverage that bother me. I'm going to use an example from Scott Ostler because it is to hand, but I understand that Ostler is a humor writer and he riffs on things. I do the same thing. No blame. Nevertheless: In a column about the Stanford women's basketball team, Ostler wrote:

"Candice Wiggins, discussing 6-foot-4 freshman forward Kayla Pedersen, who has come up big-big-big in the playoffs, said, 'It's amazing to me that Kayla, she's so composed. But inside, she's so intense, like fierce and ferocious. It's a dichotomy that works.'

"You hate it when a dichotomy doesn't work. A dysfunctional dichotomy.

"And thank goodness for spell-check, and Webster's online. If only I understood the definition."

Now, I'm pretty darned sure that Ostler knows what "dichotomy" means. He's co-written half a dozen books and more columns than he can count. It's not exactly an obscure word; in my experience, it's used in casual conversation more than, say, "philtrum" or "sexton." He's pretending not to know what it means in order to emphasize the braininess of Wiggins.

Trouble is, pretending not to know the meaning of multisyllable words is a standard trope in sports journalism. The color guy will say, "Martin looks pretty leisurely at first base" and the play-by-play guy will say, "Whoa, partner, you can really bring those $10 words. I'm having trouble keeping up." And then there will be laughter.

And every kid will get the message - using long words is unacceptably geeky. Real fans (and, of course, players) confine themselves to grunts and cliches. It's part of a long thread of anti-intellectualism that winds through many parts of American life. There's no reason why a person can't play ball and read books - although doing both simultaneously might present some problems. Political candidates have to dumb down their messages too, lest they seem "elitist." It's as if being smart is a slap at dumb people.

It's also true for math chat. One of the reasons I like the sports Web site Firejoemorgan.com so much is that it takes on writers who distrust statistical analysis because, basically, they haven't taken the trouble to understand it. Somehow, numbers analysis seems to be poaching on their territory, in which baseball is all about heart and grit and being a team guy. It's about that, but it's also about quantifiable skills, and it takes brains to figure out how to quantify them. And brains - who needs 'em?